


Desperation

by merlinsmushrooms



Category: Sofia the First (Cartoon)
Genre: Dark Magic, Gen, M/M, Self Harm, edgy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 02:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10323590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlinsmushrooms/pseuds/merlinsmushrooms
Summary: Having failed every attempt he's ever made at taking over Enchancia, Cedric starts studying a new kind of magic that may be his only hope at succeeding.





	

  
To think that he would be dabbling in affairs that had only crossed his thoughts in a more juvenile time now? At at such an age? He knew that he had grown desperate, and it was in his desperation that he’d toy with matters that were not only illegal - but rather immoral.  
  
He had placed all his hopes in the Amulet of Avalor the moment his eyes finally laid upon it, but it seemed that no matter how hard he had tried he couldn’t swipe the blasted jewel from the Princess. At least, for a while. The one time he had managed to procure the ancient artifact it turned into a mess that not even his own negative mind could imagine. The moment he was forced to give his prize up was the moment that he realized he was running out of time. Time that had been wasted on far too many daydreams and futile embarrassing attempts.  
  
The games were over. He would either be taken seriously, or go down at least attempting to do something that few even dared to try.  
  
Granted, these were the baby steps. Research was important with these matters. There was a reason that such powerful magics had been banned long ago, and there was an even more perilous reason that many warlocks never attempted the art. If he could harness the power Roland would be too afraid to confront him - everybody would. Taking the throne would be easy with such a display of prowess; easier than with the amulet even.

Preparations were already complete for his first attempt. The candles had already been enchanted and anointed with his intentions, and the runes that would direct the flow of his spells had been etched in chalk upon cold stone flooring of the empty room he hid his experiment in. It had taken him weeks to get to this point, and a failure now could set him back even further. Still, the sight of the flickering flames and the general chill of the atmosphere he had produced was enough to edge him further. He had always secretly enjoyed the look and feel of ritualistic magics, even if they were considered slightly outdated by modern standards. A teenage fantasy made reality so many years later. Despite his anxiousness, he couldn't help but also feel giddy about his attempts in a guilty pleasure sort of way.  
  
As the sorcerer placed the dried and shriveled plant that he had been carrying upon the center of the circular runic formation, Wormwood would call to him from beyond his setup from the rafters. The raven’s cry was shrill and had an obvious dose of anxiety regarding what Cedric was about to do, but he would dismiss it without speaking. A harsh _tsh_ ’ and stoic wave of his hand would be enough to silence the beast’s complaints. The corvid might have been his familiar, but it seemed that sometimes it wanted to be the one to dictate what was to be done. Danger was a necessity at times, and while he was usually one to play things more than safe, it was better to attempt than entirely give up and live the remainder of his years in dreadful servitude.  
  
A pause as he reflected upon the motion that was needed to be done to start the ritual.  
  
Standing above the dead potted plant that would be the subject of his experiment, Cedric would take an engraved silver dagger from his pocket and examine his expressionless reflection upon it’s gleaming surface. It was procrastination, however, and he would pry himself away from wallowing in his own self pity long enough to begin his incantation with a whisper.

It was then that he would do what had been causing him so much strife.  
  
The edge of the blade would gently slide across the pale skin of an already scarred wrist and break the surface of the flesh. It was a struggle for his thoughts to remain focused on his spell rather than the burning sensation that shot through his arm, but it was a fight he needed to win. He could feel his energy move with the blood that escaped him and drip down below onto the subject - and it was not any sort of feeling he had expected. It was just like any other transfer of energy that he had done prior; just messier and a tad more morbid than he was truly comfortable with. The surprise caused his thoughts to shift entirely, and it was then that his his heart began to race as the fear of failure begun to overtake everything. All he could do was step away from his failed spell with a cry he buried into his sleeves.

Dropping his blade, Cedric would grasp at the self-inflicted wound as his body shook vehemently. Why could he never keep his focus under such stress? It had taken him days to mentally prepare for the occasion, and now not only was his time wasted - but a part of him as well. This was all so foolish. Why would he of all people be able to succeed with such dark magics? Desperation was only an enticer and not any sort of guarantee that could lead him to having a proper grasp upon it. It didn’t matter how much drive he had, just that he was incompetent. He should have tried literally anything else but this.  
  
The sound of his cries would be cut off by a voice suddenly piercing the silence, causing his heart to sink instantly as he realized the magnitude of what he was doing. He had been caught doing something deplorable. His failed attempts could land him in a trouble that Roland might not actually pardon.  
  
Except the voice wasn’t that of those who might meddle, nor did it belong to anybody who even lived in the castle.  
  
“Cedric? What are you doing?!”

  
As he turned to see who had interrupted him so abruptly, Cedric’s fear would mix with an innate confusion as his acquaintance Greylock stared back upon him with a look of sheer horror upon his face. Instinct mandated that the other knew exactly what he had been up to and had come to intervene, but how and why even?

“Greylock? What are...you...?”  
  
He wouldn’t even be allowed to finish his questioning before he felt arms wrap around him and a head nest upon his collarbone, silencing him before the other would shout a tad too close to his ear for comfort’s sake.  
  
“Why are you doing this?” Greylock would cry as his grip upon him tightened, his own hands reaching to grasp Cedric’s injured arm and force it forwards to examine, “The Princess told me that she saw books that made her uncomfortable on your work desk, but I didn’t think that you’d...you were…”

Squirming under the pressure of Grey’s embrace, Cedric felt himself too weak to struggle against him despite his abhorrence of touch. While he would fight the other’s attempt to pry and criticize his wound, he couldn’t exactly do much about his own scrawniness, and the other would force him to display his injury in the candlelight after a moment of silent conflict. He couldn’t look the other sorcerer in the eye; the shame was far too great for him to bear.

“Thought I was what?”  
  
“A warlock.”  
  
Another bout of silence as Cedric pondered the other's words.  
  
Greylock had interrupted him during a first true attempt. A mere dabbling didn’t exactly constitute one to be a warlock, but if he had been watching - and if Princess Sofia had said things about the tomes he had been studying from - such an accusation made plenty of sense. Would he tell the others if he told the truth for some sort of benefit that might possibly exist, or should he lie and try to dismiss the whole thing as some sort of misunderstanding? It was hard to tell exactly what Greylock’s thoughts were towards such matters. Everybody seemed to have a differing opinion on the magic of life and the soul, and he had never once heard any debate from the jester wizard even back during their school years. Granted, the other’s overreaction and sudden coddling seemed to point towards a negative view that only made his internal debate even more retching.  
  
“Is...a royal sorcerer not allowed to study these things in an attempt to…”  
  
“Defend the kingdom? Have understanding?” Grey would interrupt with a most mocking yet distressed tone, “You’ve always been a horrible liar Cedric.”  
  
That was that. Truth it was.

“I just wanted to try it. Surely you understand, do you not?”  
  
Much to his surprise, Greylock would release him as he nodded his head slowly just once, only to follow with an exasperated sigh and a shrug of hefty shoulders.  
  
“I do, but… I don’t want to see you of all people go down the wrong path, Cedric. I won’t be losing you again.”

What was this about? Again? Cedric could only cock his brow in confusion as he attempted to regain breath lost to his apprehensions.  
  
“It’s just that,” Greylock would begin as he fidgeted in a rather familiar manner, “You disappeared after graduation, and then again after the reunion, and then again after our visit to Enchancia.”  
  
“I didn’t…”  
  
“You stopped talking to everybody. They always said that people like you eventually turned, but I didn’t want my friend to…”

 _Friend?_  
Is that what he still considered him to be? After all these years? Why he had occasionally received the odd letter from him asking for his presence at some sort of event? Why he had tried to strike random conversation with him in the halls during their youth? Why he flocked to him at the reunion so many years ago - even if the other just wanted to heckle him.  
...did friends even do such deplorable things to one-another, or was Greylock what one would consider to be a horrible friend?

Yet he was here without beckoning. Cedric's first thought was that Greylock's presence came from Princess Sofia’s meddling, and perhaps she too might have thought Greylock was his friend. If she had slipped such dire concerns to anybody else, it might have meant guards at his door instead of a concerned buffoon.  
  
It was as his thoughts raced that he realized something of an awkward importance.  
  
He was concerned.  
She was concerned.  
  
Why? For their own safety, or for his own?  
  
Again he would break from the magnitude of his realization. For the first time in what felt like his life somebody cared.  
Two cared.  
  
And as the tears began once more, he could feel that warmth slip around him again and he wouldn't make the effort to push away. His face burying in his friend's woolen robes as he attempted to take the comfort provided. A gentle stroke of a hand could be felt upon his back, which he’d allow himself to melt into with an emotionally pained groan. It felt so odd yet so right for him to be taking such soothing from one whom normally grated him so, but it was as it was. Somebody wanted to do this for him, and he would take it for his own sanity. Sanity which had lapsed just moments prior.  
  
“Let's get you a cup of tea, Cedric. That’ll make you feel better.”  
  
All he could do was nod into the other’s chest before he could feel himself being escorted towards the door. As he attempted to glance back upon his twisted experiment for some sort of reaffirmation he was unsure of himself, Greylock would grasp his arm tighter and smile with an exhausted expression; leading them forwards hurriedly as he began to ramble about the assortment of teas that he had brought with him on his visit.   
  
_There was no need for him to see the rose that had bloomed behind them._

**Author's Note:**

> {{I don't normally write content this dark for children's shows, but a friend of mine gave me the prompt and this exists now. I found this rotting in my files and realized I forgot to upload it months ago.
> 
> I may continue this later and thus I've tagged it with ship tags for /reasons/.
> 
> Fun Fact:  
> I originally had the incantation Cedric read written, but it was just the bippity boppity boo lyrics. }}


End file.
